Christmas Shopaholic(28)

“Definitely,” I say firmly.

“Marvelous.” He touches my glass with his again. “I’ll send you the details and we’ll fight them together. I’m a friend of the disenfranchised, my dear, always have been, and I will be very glad if we can prevail. And it’s splendid to find such a keen supporter of billiards as yourself,” he adds, his face lighting up. “So unusual. So refreshing.”

Oh, right. I’d forgotten about the billiards bit.

“Well,” I say after a pause. “You know. I mean, billiards. It’s just so…” I spread my hands expressively. “What’s not to love?”

“Precisely!” Edwin says enthusiastically. He crosses his legs and I notice he has violet socks to match his cravat. “To find another aficionado is always a delight.”

“I have only one question,” I say, trying to sound casual. “When will the raffle be held?”

“The raffle?” Edwin looks puzzled.

“The Christmas raffle. I saw something about it in the lobby?”

“Oh.” Edwin’s brow clears. “That. Yes, that’s usually straight after the AGM. We have mulled wine and whatnot. Festive cheer.” He twinkles at me. “Let’s hope we’re the ones with the cheer, m’dear!”

I smile back at him happily and swig my gimlet. This is all falling nicely into place. I’ll go to the AGM, read out whatever brilliant speech Edwin writes for me, join the club, enter the raffle, and get the portmanteau. And Luke will be blown away. Ha!



* * *



—

I’m still glowing as I arrive back at Letherby station. I’ve had a fantastic afternoon. Not only did I make major strides toward getting Luke an awesome present, I went back to Hamleys and found a fabulous fluffy unicorn that Clemmie will adore. I’m so ahead of the game!

I’m supposed to be picking Minnie up from Suze’s house, but I decide to pop home first and hide the unicorn. It’s pretty enormous, but I can just about manhandle it—

“Becky.”

As I hear a familiar raspy voice, I jump and turn round. Craig is loping toward me out of the station, dressed in the same battered leather jacket as before and black jeans covered in some sort of graffiti.

“Oh, hi!” I exclaim, shifting the unicorn to see him properly. “Craig! How are you?”

“We must have been on the same train and didn’t know it.” He smiles at me. “Here, give me something to carry.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Awkwardly, I hand over the unicorn. He peers curiously at it, then falls into step with me as we head along the main street.

Craig walks with a different rhythm from Luke—in fact, everything he does has a different rhythm. He’s far more measured. And he won’t be rushed. I’m remembering that now. (I used to find it really annoying.)

He lights a cigarette, then looks at me. “You want one?”

“No, thanks,” I say. I watch as he inhales and blows out a cloud of smoke, then add, “How are you finding Letherby?”

“It’s just what I need,” he says musingly. “A bit of quiet, you know? Somewhere totally sleepy, middle of nowhere, nothing going on. Perfect.”

I feel a bit defensive on Letherby’s behalf. There’s not exactly nothing going on here. There’s the village shop and Suze’s shop, and there’s the Lamb and Flag, which does a really good Sunday lunch. But I don’t point that out; instead, I say, “That’s probably what you need.”

“Telling me.” He nods heavily. “I’ve just been on tour for two months solid. Before that I was in Kiev for six months. I mean, you know the scene in Kiev.” He glances at me. “The partying’s insane.”

Kiev? I don’t know anything about Kiev except I’ve eaten chicken Kiev. But I’m not admitting that.

“Oh, Kiev!” I nod, trying to sound world-weary and experienced. “God, yes. That scene. Extreme. It’s like…crazy!”

“It’s the new Berlin.” Craig blows out another puff of smoke.

“Yes,” I agree fervently. “That’s what I always say too. It’s the new Berlin.”

“Now, Tbilisi,” continues Craig thoughtfully. “That has a great scene.”

“Tbilisi!” I nod enthusiastically. “Awesome. It’s the new Kiev,” I risk.

Where’s Tbilisi, again?

“So you’ve been?” Craig looks at me with interest. “When did you go there?”

“Go there?” I echo, playing for time, and crinkle up my eyes as though trying to remember. “Hmm. Was it Tbilisi…or Tenerife? Anyway, are you still in touch with the others from the band?” I add, hastily changing the subject.

“Jeez, no.” Craig looks surprised at the idea. “I lost touch with those losers. But, hey, Becky.” He focuses on me as though for the first time. “A bunch of us are going to Warsaw for the weekend, check out a new club. The guys from Blink Rage, a few others…You want to come?”

I stare at him, gripped. He’s inviting me to go partying in Warsaw with Blink Rage? For a moment I’m there, wearing electric-blue eye shadow and amazing shoes (which I would need to buy), jumping around to some banging song in a nightclub, and people are calling me “the Girl with the Great Eye Shadow,” except in Polish….